Evol Spelled in Blood
by BeefieBitchGoesUndercover
Summary: For 100 years, Dean, now alpha vampire of an infamous clan, had been altering himself every which way to achieve any sort of humanity he could grasp. And for years, Dean fit in and pretended he was the son and older brother of John and Sam. summary inside
1. Fledgling Fuck Ups

**A/N: This is my first fanfic regarding Supernatural and the wonderful Winchester boys, add in that I'm not that well versed with the series, so please be gentle with me if I falter. (I'm working on it though; watching an episode here and there.) Hopefully I'll stick with this story, but being that at this present moment I've become a hardcore Wincest addict, I think it'll be fine. This is going to be fun.**

**NOTE: My version of vampire Dean is not like the series (by the way, I wrote this before I saw the new episode; coincidence?), because, quite frankly, I don't like the way they make their vampires (THE TEETH PART; I simply don't fancy it).**

**But why am I still yackin'? Read! (Oh yes, reviews are love!)**

Warning: language, sexual themes and violence for later chapters

Summary: For 100 years, Dean, now alpha vampire of an infamous clan, had been altering himself every which way to achieve any sort of humanity he could grasp. And for years, Dean fit in and pretended he was the son and older brother of John and Sam Winchester. Now Sam is eighteen and a new hunter, and by some cruel irony he must make a choice: kill Dean or start a war. Wincest.

xXx

Ch. 1: Fledgling Fuck Ups

"Sammy doesn't need to hear the music because Sam _is_ the music," Dean whispered, his mouth practically smashed against Sam's ear. Sam growled and shouldered Dean away, but the idiot merely re-clung to his side. On any other occasion, Sam would've probably been overjoyed from how close Dean was (so Sam was a little clingy; fuck off), and he was half an hour ago, but the smell of weed on Dean's clothes in addition to his current dipshit nature shattered his patience. Dean was high and getting on Sam's nerves.

"Dean, _please_ go away," Sam muttered, pushing Dean's face away with the palm of his hand. Sir Stupid whined loudly and wrapped his arms around Sam's neck childishly.

"But Sa-am! You don't need to listen to the music because—" he leaned in and whispered into his ear once more, "—you _are_ the music,"

"I'm not listening to music, Dean," Sam snapped. "I'm trying to cook dinner for myself, but you're making it increasingly difficult for me to do that!" He slammed the kitchen knife he'd been using on the table for emphasis.

"Sam, no!" Dean suddenly screamed. Being that his mouth was still glued to Sam's ear, he successfully blasted Sam's eardrum.

"Fuck! Goddamn it, Dean, what, what the fuck is it _now_?" Sam yelled back, glaring viciously at Dean.

"Stupid, you nearly cut off your finger," Dean said calmly, abruptly acting as if sober. "Look, you even nicked it. I'll go get some Band-Aids."

Sam stared at him, dumbfounded. Dean's grin was wide and cocky enough to give the Cheshire cat a run for its money, plus he was holding back the urge to burst out laughing. Chuckling victoriously, Dean put one finger under Sam's hanging jaw and gently pushed it closed before departing the kitchen to the retrieve the box of Band-Aids. From where Sam stood he could still very clearly hear Dean's laughter. It sounded a bit odd, but Sam was too stunned to think properly, much less mull over the strange tone to his brother's laughter.

A few moments later Dean returned with a box of Teen Titans themed Band-Aids. "All we have left is Raven and Starfire. Which do you prefer?"

Dean's immaturity brought Sam back into reality, allowing him to finally glance down to find his left forefinger slowly seeping blood over the potato he was formerly dicing.

"Oh shit!" He cried, snatching his hand away.

"Which one, Raven or Starfire? Come on, Sam—"

"Raven!" He replied quickly, rushing to the sink and dousing it with water to clean it, not realizing that he turned the water to hot till it had warmed and become scalding. Crying out in surprise, he whipped his hand away. "Fuck!"

"You're hopeless," Dean interjected sharply. He grabbed his flailing brother's wrist and smoothly covered the small cut on his finger with a ready Raven Band-Aid. "There, better now?" He said, holding up Sam's hand for him to see, then, in a more teasing tone, added, "Or does Sammy need big brother Dean to kiss it?" He made a kissy face at Sam at this.

Sam's cheeks pinked slightly and he once again pushed Dean's face away with the palm of his hand to his jaw, though the action was far less forceful than before.

"Shut up, you dick." He muttered. He redirected his attention to the potatoes, which, sadly, were soiled by the small bit of Sam's blood that he'd unknowingly let drip onto it. "Dammit," he mumbled under his breath, sweeping the potatoes into the trash with an easy flick of his wrist.

"What were you making?" Dean asked curiously, leaning against the counter. Sam glanced up and brushed the hair out of his face, his hazel eyes glowering playfully at Dean.

"Well, I _was_ going to fry up some potatoes for myself—nobody was eating them—but a certain high bastard decided that he'd pester me instead. Speaking of which, why the hell are you high? Also, why the _fuck_ do we have Teen Titans Band-Aids?"

"To answer your first question, Gabriel was the one smoking weed, not me. I just smell like it, and I thought it'd be fun to mess with you. Which worked so beautifully might I add," he grinned wickedly at this comment, but the peculiar darker shade of his eyes and the rigid set of his shoulders presumed that there was something he wasn't telling Sam, who scowled at this but said nothing.

"I thought you hated Gabriel," Sam asked instead, pushing the previous thought to the back of his mind.

"Not really. He's kind of fun to hang out with actually," Dean said, "His commentary can be pretty fucking hilarious. Anyway, I digress; your second question is obvious. Of _course_ we have Teen Titans Band-Aids! Teen Titans is the shit!"

"You're twenty-one, Dean,"

"So?"

"Teen Titans is a kid show. Hence, '_Teen_ Titans,'"

"And your point is…?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "You're such a little kid."

"How? Just because I like Teen Titans doesn't make me a kid!"

"One, you have Band-Aids themed by the show. Two, you sound like one." Sam smirked as Dean grumbled in defeat. Sam: 1, Dean: 0.

"What's all the ruckus about?" John asked, popping his head into the kitchen.

"Dad!" Sam exclaimed. "Aren't I getting my first case today? Come on, you promised! In fact, you said we'd do it on my birthday, which—might I add—was a _week_ ago!"

"And you say _I'm_ the kid," Dean chuckled under his breath, earning a look from Sam.

"So?" Sam asked energetically, glancing back at John with bright, excited eyes.

John scratched his head and ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in thought before nodding slowly. "Yeah…I guess so,"

"Cool!"

"But," John quickly interrupted, "Things have been pretty calm lately, so I can't promise anything too exciting. However, I do happen to have a case,"

"Yes!" Sam cheered, grin wild and positively stunning, dimples and all. He looked like an adorable little kid, enough to make Dean laugh quietly under his breath at the irony. And to add a comic plus on the whole situation, Sam very rarely showed this much enthusiasm; it was quite a scene.

"Hey, I'm not finished. We don't know too much, but we've had some people gone missing, only two, a male and a female, both only fifteen or so. We don't know there connection yet, and I have some other business to do—it's nothing you're ready for, so don't bothering asking to tag along—so I'm leaving Dean to help you out. I know, I know, I'm the worst, but he's good. He won't get you killed if things suddenly get messy…hopefully,"

Dean rolled his eyes at this, but Sam was absolutely zealous. He was smiling even wider than ever, especially at the mentioning of Dean accompanying him instead of John. The whole idea was wonderful, and to add on having his first case being with Dean and only Dean? It was a dream come true.

"Naw, he's not that bad. I'm also rather confident in myself that I'll be fine, and if something _did_ go wrong, he'd probably be the one getting _himself_ killed, not me." Sam said cheerfully.

John laughed and Dean wrinkled his nose. "Oh shut up, ya brat!" Dean growled, hooking an arm around Sam's neck, locking him in for a noogie. Sam laughed and begged him to let go. He tried his best to push him off, which he could've very easily done if he hadn't been in such a high bliss.

"Alright you guys, calm down. It's getting late, and if you want to get an early start on the case you'd better get to bed." John said with a nod to Sam.

"Aw," Sam whined, "We can't start now?"

"Nope, now scat," John whistled sharply with a nod and a thumb in the direction of Sam's room.

"Whatever," Sam chirped. Nothing could kill his mood, not even having to wait. He snuck a glance at Dean before practically skipping off to bed. Who gave a shit if it looked like the gayest thing since Twilight? Bliss made you do funny things.

"Damn, he's not excited at all," Dean commented with a raise of his brow once Sam had left the room.

"Dean," John said, his tone causing Dean to stiffen. "Be careful with the kid; knowing you, you'll want to just dive in, but even though he's good at training, you have to set a good example. Okay?"

Dean relaxed and nodded. "Yeah, I've got it."

"Good. You're doing me a huge favor, kid, thanks," John said with a soft smile, clapping his hand onto Dean's shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze before turning to leave the room. Stopping at the doorway, he looked over his shoulder and added, "I'll be out late tonight. As I said, some kids have gone missing, and I have a feeling it has to do with a vampire. G'night." And with that, John left, shutting the front door gently behind him.

"Shit," Dean hissed quietly under his breath. He'd grown careless. He waited about a half an hour to make sure John was gone and Sam was asleep before whipping out his phone and quickly dialing up Gabriel. It rung twice before he finally answered. "_Hello?_"

"Goddamn it, Gabriel! Did you know about the murders of those two kids? If it does happen to be a vampire, we'll be in some serious shit!" Dean whispered angrily, his hand sifting through his short hair in aggravation. This was not good.

One hundred years ago Dean was changed into a vampire, and now a century later, he was at the top of his game: a member of an extremely expansive and very famous vampire gang that's range covered all of America, Canada, Puerto Rico, and even a little bit in South America and Mexico, and he sat at the top of it all as the alpha. He was infamous; with a wave of his hand he could bring thousands—no, _millions_ to their knees. Though by a Roman Empire example, it was evident he could not control it all on his own, and had multiple subordinates. Gabriel, an angel that found great interest in vampires, served as his right hand man and one of his closest friends despite their messy first impression.

"_Calm down, De. Don't get mad, but it was a vampire,_"

"God_damn_ it, Gabriel!" Dean snapped, forcing himself to keep his voice low.

"_Hey, hey, hey, cool off bro! I've got this covered. The kid was a fledgling, a newbie. I don't know who it is exactly for that reason, though I do know that much. I've got everything under control, De, okay?_"

"No, Gabriel, you don't fucking get it. At eighteen, a hunter is assigned his first case, and Sam's eighteenth birthday just passed. Now, Gabriel, what case do you think Sam was assigned?"

"_Ooh, ouch! That sucks hard, man. Ha ha, vampire pun,_"

"Dammit, Gabriel, you are _not_ helping."

"_God, cool your tits bro. I've been searching all night anyway. Unbeknownst to you, I don't particularly enjoy having my shit mix up with you hunters. I've been on this case as soon as word broke loose; the hunters are already involved, and I want them out of my life as soon as I can. You guys are a fucking hassle._"

"Thank you for the compliment Gabriel. Good thing though, John's busy so I have to help the kid with the case. Hopefully we'll get it over with before things get too irksome,"

"_Good. Hey, you don't sound stoned anymore. What, did you see Sammy boy jerkin' off and sobered up on the spot?_" Gabriel cackled wildly at his own joke, but Dean wasn't the least bit amused.

"No, he cut his finger. I nearly jumped him, you fucking dick," Dean snarled, snapping the phone closed before Gabriel could reply. Pocketing the device, Dean ran both of his hands through his hair and gave a long, jaded sigh. It was going to be a very long night and tomorrow didn't look too promising.

But at least the image of Sam jerking off made him feel a bit better.

xXx

**A/N: Woop! First chapter, done! IMPORTANT: I don't have a constant access to the internet, so my posts will likely be spaced. I'm going to try to update as much as possible, but I'm just warning you guys. (I do have the second chapter completed though, so you'll get two at once!) Oh yes, and I am a diehard Teen Titans fan, of **_**course**_** I'd fit them in if enabled! **

**Remember, review is love! I also REALLY want to get a scoop on how I've done, such as if I'm diving into it far to quickly. But on a side note, is it wrong that I made Gabriel and Dean friends? There humor kind of sounds similar, just a bit. Well, the infantile part of it, at least. Bluh, I don't know. Please, please, pleeeeaaase review! It's like finding a big basket of Baby Ruths at my doorstep, and I really love that shiz! **

**Till later!**

**-Beefie**


	2. Strip Rose Pandemonium, Pt 1

**A/N: I'm having so much fun with this. Enjoy!**

Warning: language and sexual themes for later chapters

Summary: For 100 years, Dean, now alpha vampire of an infamous clan, had been altering himself every which way to achieve any sort of humanity he could grasp. And for years, Dean fit in and pretended he was the son and older brother of John and Sam Winchester. Now Sam is eighteen and a new hunter, and by some cruel irony he must make a choice: kill Dean or start a war. Wincest.

xXx

Ch. 2: Stip Rose Pandemonium, Pt. 1

(Sam)

Sam was practically bouncing off the walls, excitement very rapidly escalating into impatience. Dean had left in the middle of the night to do whatever, and although Sam had grown accustomed to this, it didn't salvage the eagerness for his first hunt in the least. He chewed his bottom lip and glanced at his watch; 7:23 am, and Dean was still not home yet.

Sam gave a loud, angst-ridden sigh and flopped back onto the couch, pouting a little in annoyance. He wanted to start as soon as possible; this was what he'd been preparing for since he was a kid, wasn't it? For years, Sam trained hard, working out, participating in track and basketball (why not put his tallness to use?), practicing any form of martial arts he could, whether it be at home or in a dojo or sparing with Dean, studying religiously on Latin and demon studies till he could almost repeat each book as if he read, and anything to ready him for the big shots. He could hardly contain his excitement, and although there would very likely be very little action on his first case, at least it was _something_. And to top things off, he was virtually going to explode from how badly he wanted to show off to Dean. He played the whole scene out in his head:

_Sam threw his crucifix and stained stake to the side, wiping the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. Before him lay a dead vampire carcass, of which Sam had just slain. A little ways behind it sat Dean, who had been cornered by the ghastly beast and would've likely gotten extremely hurt if Sam hadn't stepped in just in time._

_Sam thrust out his hand and helped Dean to his feet. Dean thanked him, smiling proudly, and tousled Sam's hair approvingly. "Good job kid."_

_Sam grinned widely. "It was nothing,"_

"_No, I mean it. You saved my life back there," his eyes darkened to a more serious shade like they always did when he was passionate with his words, but there was something in those green depths this time that sent an invisible shudder down Sam's spine. Sam blushed under the intensity and waved the comment away._

"_And I mean it to. You're my brother, of course I'd save you if need be." Sam repeated, shaking his head. He almost couldn't meet Dean's eyes, partially because his blush had grown deeper and that stare was so…raw._

"_Sam," Dean murmured, bringing his fingers to the opposite side of Sam's jaw and gently turning him so that their eyes met again. Sam swallowed, pulse thrumming swiftly through his veins._

"_Yeah?" Sam forced himself to say without having his voice break. Why the hell was his heart beating so hard? They were brothers, and this was definitely not the way he should react. It wasn't normal._

_Dean said nothing and merely pulled his face closer to his with just the slightest of pressure, his arm wrapping around his waist lightly bringing him closer. Slowly, ever so slowly, Dean closed the gap between their lips and kissed him._

_Sam, for whatever morbid reason didn't push him away, protest—no, he did the very opposite: he pressed closer. It felt like his body was on fire, his chest tightening in longing for some unknown desire. And to make matters worse, he liked it._

_Finally, Dean pulled away, that stupid yet gorgeous, cocky smirk playing with his lips. "Thanks,"_

Sam blinked; the fuck was that? He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thought, blushing hotly at the lone fact that he'd even considered it. For one thing, Dean was his _brother_, which would make that incest, and even though Sam believed fully that you should love whoever you want to love (if it remains within legal boundaries), it still didn't change the fact that it wasn't right in the slightest for _him_ to feel that way. And second, the likelihood of Dean feeling the same way was absolutely out of the question. Even if Sam did have the courage to say it—whatever "it" was—rejection rendered him scared and banished the thought immediately.

Suddenly, Sam felt a light touch to his forehead like that of a hand, causing instincts to kick in and grab his attacker's arm and force him to the floor, arm pinned behind his back with Sam's knee pressed firmly between his shoulder blades. Dean's shoulder blades. Oops.

"Well, I guess you're feeling just fine if you're able to pin me so easily," Dean said, voice muffled from having his face buried against the carpet.

Sam blushed hotly once more and stepped off of Dean, holding out his hand for the other. Dean took it thankfully and Sam helped him to his feet. Suddenly reminded of the little daydream he had previously, he blurted, "I'll meet you in the car!" and dashed out of the room, leaving Dean to stare at him, scowling slightly and confused. Shaking his head, he slowly followed him to the Impala, idly spinning his ring of keys around his finger.

"You okay? You're acting weird," Dean said as he climbed into the driver's seat beside him. Sam refused to look at Dean whatsoever, pretending to be abruptly very interested in something outside his window.

"Fine, fine, why were you late?" Sam replied rapidly, changing the subject but still not meeting his brother's eyes.

"Uh, I was getting a head start on the case. Sam, are you sure you're okay—"

"I'm fine, goddamn it!" Sam yelled. A stunned silence quickly devoured the air, weighing thickly on Sam's shoulders to where he squirmed a bit in his seat. "Sorry," he apologized, voice rigid. "How far to you get?"

Dean stared speechlessly at Sam, flinching when Sam spoke. Blinking, Dean shook his head. "Not very far. I did figure out that those kids have nothing to do with each other; they just happened to be in the wrong place at the same time." Dean said, calmly turning on his Impala and backing out of the driveway of their apartment.

"So we have no leads?" Sam questioned.

"Oh no, I'm not finished. I found out a few things besides that; one, the place they were killed is pretty interesting, not to mention _how_ they were killed. Also, there was a full moon last night."

Sam finally peeled his eyes away from the window long enough to gape at Dean, shocked. "But wait, I thought full moons were associated with werewolves,"

"Exactly," the strange viciousness edging Dean's voice in thorns was enough to make Sam cringe back into his seat; he really seemed to hate werewolves.

As things progressed, the scenery changed rapidly from the nice outer edges of their current home in Brookline, Mass. to the big city of Boston. It wasn't a very picturesque sight despite such; they were apparently heading into the bad part of town, presumed by the near constant screech of police sirens, the distressed hum of dogs barking, babies crying and people wailing, the filth and trash ridden streets, crumbling, poignant buildings, the homeless, street urchins, and gypsies clinging to the walls, and the shady characters drifting about the shadows and within alleyways. Sam found himself surprisingly uncomfortable by this.

"What are we doing in the ghettoes?" Sam mumbled, eyes scanning the panorama uncertainly.

"Just stick with me and you'll be fine," Dean growled, his voice still knife sharp and dripping with venom.

This, sadly, didn't settle Sam at all if not make him the more disconcerted.

Eventually Dean pulled into a ramshackle parking lot to a…strip club? Sam scowled; what were underage civilians doing in a strip club? But Sam found himself more disconcerted by the name of it and the air it presented alongside: Strip Rose Pandemonium.

"A strip club?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean. "Why were teenagers going to a strip club?"

"Oh yeah, I left one thing out; this is a demon strip club," Dean replied, stepping out of the car. Sam moved to follow, but Dean had already opened the door for him. Flushing and thanking him, Sam exited.

"That doesn't answer my question why _teenagers_ were in a _strip club_, Dean," Sam said in provocation. "You're distracted, aren't you?"

"What?"

"My point exactly," Sam said with a sigh. "Did you get a background check on the vics?"

"Yeah; both were cultist," Dean said as he led Sam to the building. Sam became increasing troubled as he realized they were going through the back entrance, but he kept his mouth closed. Dean was the more experienced of the two, after all. He knew what he was doing—hopefully.

"Teenagers?"

"Yep. And pretty hardcore as well; they somehow got a hook on hell and have been living in the night scene full time." Dean informed, stopping at the backdoor of the strip club, guarded by a large man with oddly bright pink skin, tusks, horns, and a strangely shaped nose; not purposefully being impolite, but he very much so resembled a pig. Sam's heart rammed mercilessly against his ribcage; this was he first real life encounter with a demon, and he had to admit he was a bit excited.

The pig man held up a hand. "ID?"

"Uhm," _Oh fuck,_ Sam thought, throwing a desperate look to Dean. He wasn't twenty-one and most definitely didn't posses a fake ID.

Dean flashed the bouncer his along with a savage smile. "Do you think you could make an exception for my friend here? He just turned eighteen, and I wanted to give him a treat,"

The bouncer's eyes widened when he examined Dean's ID, what looked like fear giving his small black eyes an apprehensive shine. "Yes, yes, of course! Any friend of Alpha Dean is—"

"Thank you very much for your deliberation," Dean interjected quickly, brushing the demon aside with a light sweep of a hand to its shoulder. The pig man recoiled as if burned, the fear in his eyes intensifying.

Behind the thick metal backdoor a hallway branched off at either side, dim lights lining the down the middle of the ceiling. Black and dark purple roses with thorny vines crawled along the dark red walls and both around and across lewd pictures. Before they moved any farther however, Sam grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him out of hearing range of the guard.

"What was the hell was that about, _Alpha Dean_?" Sam questioned harshly, his grip tight and unyielding.

"I've got a bit of a reputation around here," Dean replied, smirking cockishly. "Your big bro is a better hunter than you think," he whispered, leaning in closer to Sam and waggling his brows.

Sam flushed and pushed his face away. "Alright, I get the point, Dean. Can we just get this over with?"

"Sure," Dean said, pulling back. "You lead the way, Mr. Trainee,"

"Shut up, you dick," Sam muttered, but pushed the other's shoulder in a playful manner. Taking a deep breath, Sam clenched and released his hands nervously, his heart pounding painfully. Dean touched his wrist gently, reassuringly, his green eyes encouraging. _It's going to be okay._

And it was; he had Dean with him to save him if he fucked up.

xXx

**A/N: I think I'll cut off here. I don't want the chapters to be **_**too**_** lengthy, added that I want to have a good amount of work up so you guys won't be waiting on me too much with nothing to read.**

**Anyway, reviews are love!**

**-Beefie**


	3. Strip Rose Pandemonium, Pt 2

**A/N: 'Ere we are! Oh yes, thanks so very much for those who reviewed! It makes my day seein' that this story here is getting somewhere. I suspect that the time frame between posts will be a few days or so, but every other weekend (starting this former one, thus explaining the prolonged wait) there will be no updates. However, THREE CHAPTERS AT ONCE, INCLUDING THIS ONE! HUZZAH!**

**And another thing: to answer **cold kagome**, I can't tell you. You just have to figure that on your own! (Ha, aren't I helpful?) No, it's just that I want to make this as interesting as possible, and I don't know, I guess I want you to be surprised? Welp. Anywhoo, enjoy! (Very spot on question, though!)**

**Oh yes, Wincest is coming; I'm just taking this stuff slowly. Makes for more chapters.**

Disclaimer: NO, I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT THIS. FLOB, WHAT KINDA PERSON DO YOU THINK ME AS? But no, in a less dramatic (I almost want to say 'dramatical'—it is not a word, sadly) tone, I do not own. I am legitimately depressed by this.

Warning: language and slight sexual themes, violence for later chapters.

xXx

Ch. 3: Strip Rose Pandemonium, Pt. 2

(Dean)

Dean was in hell.

As soon as he came home from a night of researching with Gabriel—and very nearly choking the whiny, procrastinating bitch midway through—Dean finally was able to get home, only to find Sam flushing deeply on the couch, a scene that didn't cope well with Dean's wavering self-control whenever around him. Dean tried to check his temperature to see if he was possibly sick only to be pinned with his face shoved into the floor. Sam let him go, though once Dean was to his feet the kid was bolting out the door. Dean, thoroughly worried at that point, attempted to talk with him, but was answered with a yell. Dean was stunned though left it at that, but worry poisoned his every thought.

The instant Sam stepped out of the car, however, Dean instantly became distracted by his tight clothing. He wore a slim fitting V-neck revealing his perfect pale skin and clung to his slightly curvy yet still somewhat built body temptingly and skinny jeans, which showed off his long legs beautifully and made his ass look fucking phenomenal. Speaking of Sam's ass, Dean had to struggle not stare at it too much; it was just so damn _perfect_. It took every piece of will Dean could muster to not pounce on him, much less avoid staring at him _too_ extensively. It was absolute torture, and Dean became easily distracted by it.

Then, as if the Lady Fate had somehow formed a grudge on Dean's head, the goddamn bouncer of the Strip Rose flipped when he realized who Dean was. Dean was not entirely known as a vicious leader, though he was indeed cold—actually, Dean, when taken from an outsider's perspective, looked as if the possibility of emotion was more of a cruel joke than anything. He presented a visage of an untouchable, detached monster that could slit your throat and feel no remorse afterwards. And on normal occasions, this was true. Dean had learned a long time ago that emotion was a setback—it would leave him too far open to manipulation and pain, a constant variable given his position, and was something he'd learned to block out. But there were indeed chinks in his armor—one example was Gabriel. The imbecile irked Dean beyond recognition every waking moment in his idiotic presence, something that would prove fatal if it had been anyone else. The most obvious explanation was their history; Dean had known Gabriel since he was first turned, which had been a good century ago. Obviously from a bond like that Gabriel could get away with a lot of things.

The most confusing example though—something that would rocket into physical exasperation when dwindled upon too intensely—had to be Sam. Even though Dean was not truly his brother, he still felt incredibly confused around the boy. Honestly, Dean would've never met Sam or John if it hadn't been for Sam's mother, Mary. The woman—dear god, the woman—had, dead truthfully, saved Dean's life, eased him back to health after a savage fight between a werewolf with more kindness than Dean had ever inflicted in his whole century of existence. As repayment for this, Dean had promised to protect Sam—John was a good hunter, yes, but the man was incredibly busy and with the family's lethal lifestyle, that was extremely dangerous when concerning Sam's safety—ad infinitum, which, they had established, ended upon Sam's eighteenth birthday. To moderate the confusion on either party earlier on, Dean lied to John and Sam by saying that he was the son of Mary by another man. John was more shocked by this than Sam, who responded with great joy; the child had barely any friends, and with his father's near constant absence, Dean was like a gift from the heavens. He finally had someone to look up to and pass the time with. But Sam's eighteenth birthday, however, passed a week ago, thus lifting Dean of his contract. Dean should've vanished from Sam's life without another thought by now. Why Dean was still there was the real question, currently paradoxical given his past and inability to properly feel by aforementioned previous experiences.

Why was he feeling that he would strive to taste the blood of any and all who dared to hurt Sam if it occurred? Why did he lose his breath whenever in Sam's presence? Why was he always blown away by everything that Sam did, no matter how small or insignificant? And why—_why_—was Dean still there beside Sam in that stupid, sleazy demonic strip club where some idiotic fledgling murdered two moronic teenagers during what—judging from the gossip—was a midnight brawl with a werewolf? This was something Dean could not and possibly never understand, but he didn't dare let his temper be shortened by his ignorance; he had Sam to protect.

Immediately upon entering the strip club back entrance, Dean felt a bad omen looming about the air, and deemed it distasteful in the most acute manner. He had a feeling that he should make Sam leave and let him get the information lone, but knowing Sam, the attempt would be in vain. The conundrum merely made him all the more uncomfortable with the situation.

"Wow, haven't these people ever heard of getting a room?" Sam mumbled, mostly to himself, in regards to the couple grinding together in a corner.

"This is a demonic strip club, Sammy," Dean said as if he were speaking to a small child, though his voice was riddled heavily with malicious sarcasm. "They don't know the meaning of civility,"

Sam raised a brow at the harshness in Dean's comment. "Whoa, who stuck a branch up your ass?"

Dean blinked; being around his own overall kind made him relapse to his original isolated personality, something Sam was not aware of that which Dean, for whatever reason, wanted to keep that way. "Huh?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I suggest paying attention, Dean,"

"Hm, yeah sure," Dean replied vaguely. In reality, his awareness was knife sharp; he purely wanted to keep Sam in the dark. It was best, after all, if Dean desired his safety to remain unscathed, which could only be salvaged by ignorance.

Sam didn't probe any further on the topic, but it was evident from the anxious set of his shoulders that he wanted it resolved. Dean placed a light hand on Sam's shoulder, trying his best to be reassuring before stepping in front of him and opening the door to the pole dancer room for him. Sam, as he had did by the car, blushed at Dean's gentlemanliness and gave him soft thanks, something that screwed with Dean somehow. Quickly, Dean pushed the thought in the back of his head; distractions—meaning emotions at that given instance—were fatal.

The duo were greeted with sultry music, perfumed smoke, very low lighting that made vision convoluted—Dean, being inhuman, saw infallibly, though Sam was likely to have problems—and both women _and_ men stripping on poles. Sam went bright red at this confrontation, eliciting a small, amused chuckle on Dean's part.

"Dean!" A familiar voice called through the throng of people and chatter. Over at the bar accompanied by Castiel sat Gabriel, grinning and holding up a drink in a waving fist to signal his position. Gently taking Sam's elbow Dean guided him over to Gabriel and Castiel, his mood substantially illuminated.

"Hey," Dean greeted, nodding over to Castiel. The angel gave a small nod of recognition, scowling deeply as he eyes settled on Sam. "Who is this?"

"Oh yeah," Gabriel interjected, evidently not enjoying having the spotlight off of him. "Cas, this is Dean's lil' bro, Sam. Sammy, this is my bro, Cas."

"Hey," Sam said, nodding in return and sending Gabriel an odd stare at the nickname.

Cas replied to this with a repeat of a similar gesture, though his scowl didn't lift whatsoever. He opened his mouth to say something, but Gabriel quickly cut him off. "So I've got some more info on those murders,"

"Really?" Sam asked, profoundly shocked. As far as he was informed, Gabriel disliked hunters to the nth degree and usually preferred to stay as detached from them as he could possibly manage; to hear him having any interest in the case or its origination astounded Sam strongly.

"Ah, yes," Cas interrupted. "We have the name of the fledging and his opponent; the rumors were true. It was a fight between a vampire and werewolf that killed those children,"

"Shit," Dean cussed under his breath. This was not at all good; not only would he upset the packs, but he was dragging the hunters—a rather irking presence, he had to admit—into the manner as well. What an indefatigable drag. "Who is it?"

"His name is Vladimir Scratch," Cas said, supplying Dean and Sam with a photo of a dark haired male who looked no older than 17. "Changed his name though; originally his name was Daniel Black,"

"Cliché," Dean spat angrily, pocketing the picture in exasperated flourish.

"The werewolf was a bit older though; still young however. He goes by the name Atticus Boon. I couldn't find whether he changed his name or not; in fact, I could find nothing about him. Odd. But from the looks of it, he's a loner," Cas commented, handing Sam a photo of an attractive black male with stunning orange eyes; his age couldn't be determined by simple observation, though Sam estimated he must be roughly twenty or so. He was young, Sam knew that much.

"Cas and I did some research and we figured out the fledge is somewhere in this building; the werewolf, however, we have no idea. We couldn't find his pack, which led us to the conclusion that he's lone. I think if we do some talking about, we can find some sort of backbone to finding him." Gabriel said, stepping off of his stool and downing his drink in one quick throw of his head. Castiel made a face at this but said nothing concerning it.

"I'll go ask around for Boon," Sam offered, yet the tone of his voice excluded any room for divergence. Dean frowned deeply but nodded; the kid was capable of fending for himself, though Dean still couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

"Alright," Dean said finally.

Sam nodded and branched off into the multitude of mingling people, Dean's eyes never leaving his back even when he vanished from evident view.

"You think he'll be okay?" Gabriel asked, raising a quizzical brow to Dean.

"…He'll be fine," Dean answered vaguely before turning and following Gabriel to the opposite direction. Once Dean was done with him, that fledgling was going to wish he never lived, made evident from the vicious grin playing with Dean's expressions.

Dean was in need of beating the shit out of something, why not this idiotic fledgling?

xXx

**A/N: …Aaaaand, BAM. Third chapter, a-done! Tell me what you think! (Not so much long as it was heavily worded, huh?)**

**Reviews are love!**

**-Beefie**


	4. W2G2WFAODS, Pt 1

**A/N: Dammit, I am on a ROLL! I love this story oh so, so, so much! This chapter is a little bit crackish, but not too horribly. Just in the sense that Sam is forced to do things against his will. Wincest this chapter? Almost!**

Warning: language, violence and sexual themes for later chapters, and a poor tortured Sam. Le sigh.

Disclaimer: what do _you_ think?

xXx

Ch. 4: W2GD2WFA/ODS, Pt. 1

(Sam)

Sam leafed his way through the thick of people—having his ass squeezed by some dick in the process and promptly round-housing him in the face, which, oddly enough, ceased this incident from ever occurring that night—speaking to no one, as each person he looked to question seemed as if they'd either rape him, cut him, or simply ignore him in general. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of searching, he found a pretty blonde girl with gorgeous brown, nearly gold eyes who appeared friendly enough and approached her tentatively.

"Hello," Sam greeted. "Do you know anything about a man named Atticus Boon?"

"Hm? Oh, you're cute. Do you have a boyfriend?" The girl asked, glancing him over with a sweet smile.

Sam was about to answer that he'd not before doing a double take and gaping at the girl. "I—what—no, no! I am _not_ gay!"

"Ha! Tell that to yourself," she giggled. "I'm Natalie. Nice to meet you," Natalie said, thrusting out her hand.

"Sam—"

"Winchester? Oh yes, I know who you are," Natalie cut in. "Your brother is legendary; how could I not?"

"Apparently so," Sam mumbled, shaking his head. "The guard out back kind of freaked when Dean showed him his ID."

"Ooh, I bet. Wait, you don't know?" Natalie blinked, tilting her head to one side before hiding a snicker behind her hand.

"Don't know what?" Sam asked, scowling deeply.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. You'll figure it out eventually. You new?" She asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned, shifting his wait from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

"A new hunter, I mean."

"How'd you know I was a hunter?" Sam wondered, voice thick with suspicion.

"Don't get your panties in a knot, princess," Naomi said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "I would recognize my own kind when I see one,"

Sam gaped in shock. How could she be older than him? She looked no taller or older than fifteen!

"Newbies," Natalie said with a laugh, standing and clapping Sam on the shoulder playfully. "And yes, I know of Mr. Boon. Though how to find him will be our biggest challenge,"

"How'd you—"

"Sweetheart, you have no idea how fast news travels in the night scene. Especially when it regards your big brother," Natalie said with a gentle smile before disappearing into the thicket of people. Confused but not wanting to lose Naomi, Sam quickly followed in key.

ooOoo

"Where are we going again?" Sam called, fighting to catch up with Natalie through the mass of people. For a strip club, it was pretty slammed—especially this early in the morning. And for being so small, Natalie was pretty damn fast; Sam had to truly battle to just keep her within sight.

"To find Mr. Boon, of course!" Natalie called over her shoulder, abruptly stopping and causing Sam to slam into her. He mumbled a quick apology, only to be silenced with a finger jammed against his lips.

"Yes, hello, do you happen to know a man by the name of Atticus Boon. See, my friend here, he's crushing _big time_ on this guy, and—"

"_Lucky_?" Sam gawked in amazement. Sure enough, the skinwalker and former house pet Lucky stood leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. The male raised a brow before his eyes lit up in acknowledgment.

"Winchester. I remember you; you're brother fucked up my life," he growled, glaring.

"Well, he was only doing his job," Sam recoiled weakly.

"Excuse me…Lucky? May I call you that?" Natalie asked with an inclination of her head; she was like a bird. The absolute perfection in the analogy was uncanny; she was petite, chatty, and clever to look at with her big green eyes and long, pretty blonde hair. The comparison could never be more ideal.

"I don't give a damn," Lucky replied gruffly.

"Lucky—look, a lot of people have beef with Dean; you're not the only one. But this is not a personal question for your assistance; two people were murdered with Atticus Boon having involvement and as a skinwalker, your knowledge will be futile."

"I thought you said he was 'crushing' on this kid," Lucky scoffed, though his tone was more relaxed than before.

"I lied," Natalie answered bluntly. "It got your attention, didn't it?"

"Touché," Lucky said then pushed himself from his position on the wall. "I know who you're talking about, but since he doesn't have a pack so he'll be a bit hard to find. I know where we can locate him though,"

"Thank you!" Natalie chirped. "Lead away!"

Lucky shook his head though led them through the crowd regardless. Sam, once again, had to fight to keep up; why the fuck did these people have to be so damn fast?

ooOoo

"This is as far as I go," Lucky said, stopping in front of a deserted alleyway 20 blocks from the strip club. "The ground is forbidden for skinwalkers to go on; the same applies for werewolves, but since this guy doesn't have a pack, he's bound to be here. Good luck," and with that the skinwalker shifted and turned to depart.

"D'aww, wait, wait, let me pet you!" Natalie squealed, pouncing on Lucky. She cooed happily and scratched behind his ears, rubbing her face against his currently doggy cheek. Lucky merely sat there, not exactly knowing how to react, while Sam held back the urge to burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'm good," Natalie said, planting a kiss on the top of Lucky's nose. The German shepherd sneezed and stared at her as weirdly as a dog was capable of as she finally let go of him. "Sorry, I used to have a shepherd. I absolutely _love_ them. Sorry for that Lucky! Thank you for your time,"

Lucky stared at her for a moment longer before finally leaving completely.

"Oh my god," Sam said, gasping for breath until he could no longer hold it in anymore and exploded with laughter. "Oh my god, you should've seen his fucking face! He had _no idea_ what the fuck was going on! HA!"

Natalie laughed and pushed Sam's shoulder. "Oh shut the fuck up, you jerk! He was so damn cute, I couldn't help it,"

"Okay, I'm good. Wait—" Sam laughed wildly for a moment or so longer, rasping for breath and kneeling over until he finally straightened, resulting in no more than slight giggles. "Okay, _now_ I'm good,"

"Dick. Anywho, let's get this over with," she said, turning and entering the alleyway. The air dropped a few degrees, though that wasn't what made Sam shudder; something didn't feel right about this place.

The area was in substantially worse condition than what Sam had witnessed on the drive there. There was nobody on the narrow, grimy streets, thankfully, but trash, what Sam prayed was only decaying animal meat, and rats scurrying over puddles of filth were a constant factor wherever he looked. And the stench was horrid; he could see why there weren't any skinwalkers or werewolves didn't dare step foot in this place—if you minus the restrictions—; it smelled rancid. Like rotting flesh and mildew; in short, in paralleled a dump in any form of perspective impeccably.

"God, what's that stench?" Sam wheezed, gagging.

"Death," a voice answered from behind them. The duo swerved around to meet the breathtaking orange eyes of a tall, impossibly handsome black male hopping down from atop a trash heap. "There's a reason the packs don't come down here; it's a great place if you want to avoid them. You get used to the smell eventually,"

"You must be Atticus Boon," Natalie stated, hand covering both her mouth and nose with tears in her eyes from the unbearable stench. "Goddamn, how the fuck do you accustom to something this horrible? And it must be ten times worse if you're a werewolf, I'm guessing,"

"You got that right little lassie," Atticus replied, sitting upon a trashcan. "It took me two months to get used to it; I puked for a straight week my first time here." He smiled, teeth blindingly white. His voice sounded accented, though by which Sam could not identify.

"What accent is that?" Sam couldn't resist asking.

Atticus' smile broadened. "Scottish. I thought it wore off by now; you have a good ear,"

Atticus' smile was like a disease. "I guess so,"

"Judging by how cute you are, you must be taken," Atticus said with a sigh, leaning against the wall.

"Nope," Natalie answered for Sam. "But he's crushing on Dean,"

"_The_ Dean? Dear god, I don't stand a chance," Atticus commented, thoroughly blown away.

"Hey, whoa, wait, what the fuck? He's my _brother_, I—no! That's wrong!" Sam opposed, blushing like mad.

"I disagree completely," Natalie objected.

"Same here," Atticus agreed, raising a hand to show his favor before pointing a finger down at Sam. "And by the way you're blushin', laddie, I'm guessin' you feel that way. Alas, you're quite the view. Nice ass, by the way; do you were skinny jeans often?"

Natalie leaned back a bit and gave a low wolf whistle. "Hot damn, my fine Scottish friend, you're right! I don't see how Dean can control himself when he's got a lil' bro with an ass like that,"

"Oh my god, shut up, the both of you!" Sam yelled, face tomato red. "I am _not_ into my brother!"

"This is sad," Natalie said with a sigh.

"Agreed; we should hook them up," Atticus concurred, nodding slowly and considerately.

"We should," Natalie gasped, snapping her fingers dramatically.

"But to do that, we need to change up his clothing, then figure out what gets to Dean within the jeans," Atticus offered, stroking an imaginary beard and staring into space thoughtfully.

"Hm, true. I think there's a Forever 21 somewhere in Boston; he definitely has the body for it,"

"Ah, yes, that'll be just fine—"

"Are you even listening to me? _I am not into my brother!_" Sam shouted, his blush reaching down to his neck.

Both of them turned to stare at him before sighing in unison. "Poor thing," Natalie murmured.

"It's kind of hard to watch. Gouge out my eyes for me?"

"Do the same for me and we have a deal; if your blind it'll only be more sloppy and make it hurt more, 'cause this is just too hard to even think about,"

"What the hell is wrong with you two? He is my _brother_; I don't feel that way for him! It's just…And even if I did—which I _don't_—he would never feel the same for me!" Sam yelled, his vision swimming.

"Shit," Atticus whispered, orange eyes soft and sympathetic.

"Why wouldn't he?" Natalie asked, voice much softer.

"I don't know! Maybe because I'm his _brother_?" Sam felt something wet on his face, and when he touched his cheek, he realized he was crying. Fuck.

"Alright, that's it," Atticus announced, hopping off his seat atop the trashcan. "We are going to make Dean realize his love for Sam, and if he rejects it, his loss."

"Agreed!" Natalie exclaimed, hooking an arm around Sam's neck. "And he will fall for Sam; if he doesn't, we'll kick him in the balls!"

"In the balls!"

"I hate my life," Sam mumbled, but didn't bother to object as Natalie and Atticus plotted his death.

xXx

**A/N: And there we are! I think I'm going to do this all this time; the two chapters at once bit. But jes, poor Sammy. I'm starting to really like Natalie and Atticus; two evil masterminds, don't you think? And oh yes, it sounds like I've drifted from the plot, but I know what I'm doing here. "The little trio got distracted" I guess could be the answer to this.**

**Anyway, till next time! Reviews are love!**

**-Beefie**


	5. Interlude

**A/N: In the mood for smut; has nothing to do with the story. I just wanted to write some porn, add in that I've got a bit of writer's block. Huzzah! (Added, my math might be wrong, I don't know. I got the question from a math test I flunked. SHUT UP, ALGEBRA IS STUPID. That shit is a nightmare. I understand it, but it's fucking tedious and I'm lazy! Those are two factors that should **_**never**_** in the whole space-time continuum mix!) Anywho, enjoy! (IMPORTANT: Dean is not a vampire here.)**

Warning: smut and angst.

Disclaimer: only for the porn and wincest.

xXx

Interlude

"Sa-am, I've been trying to get my computer to say 'fuck' with auto correct, but it's infuriatingly language-hygienic. This has gone on for ten minutes with no satisfying results, and is getting annoying. Help me make my computer cuss, Sammy!" Gabriel whined. "I wanna watch my show!"

"Gabriel, I am not going to make your computer cuss. Now please, be quiet so I can finish my homework." Sam said with an exasperated sigh, and for the tenth time that morning attempted to get back to his stupid algebra homework. Yes, Sam was a senior in high school and still in algebra, fuck off. Sam was a hunter, not an aspiring mathematician! Honestly, where the fuck would math be used in hunting? When you find out how to make a bloodthirsty demon scream and burn when pelted with quadric equations, Sam would gladly be cracking down on the torturously meaningless drag. Actually, that just might work. If only it wasn't so damn galling. Alas!

"Sa-aaam!"

"Gabriel, shut the fuck up," Dean shouted, chucking a book at Gabriel's face. The angel caught it and cackled only to have another come flying and smack him out of his chair.

"_Thank_ you!" Sam said to Dean, voice flooded with relief. The former nodded, then tilted his head in deliberation.

"Sam, you're a senior, right?"

"Shut up Dean! You try doing quadric formulas! This stuff is hard!" Sam complained, glaring blackly at his paper.

"Sam, calculus 3 was a basic for me in college; I think I can help you,"

Same flushed deeply at this, brooding over the thought for a moment before hesitantly nodding. "…Okay,"

"Le gasp! Am I going to watch big brother Dean go all school teacher on Sam the naughty school boy? Wait, let me get a camera! This shit is going _viral_!"

"Shut the fuck _up_, Gabriel!" Both Dean and Sam shouted in unison.

"Sheesh, I'm just trying to be a dick, _god_!"

"No need to try, asshole," Dean snarled, throwing Gabriel a savage glower.

Gabriel pursed his lips considerately before snapping his fingers. "Touché!"

"Ignore him; what don't you understand?" Dean asked, leaning over to glimpse at Sam's homework. Sam's face heated significantly at the sparse amount of space between the both of them, shifting awkwardly.

"All of it,"

Dean laughed quietly and looked up at Sam with a quirk of his brow; Sam blushed hotter. He never noticed how absurdly good looking Dean was from this close of space; he was hot from a distance, Sam couldn't ignore that, but he it intensified from the close amount of distance. Sam had to estimate that this originated from how stunning his green eyes looked. Being that close to him the darker and lighter shades of green and fragments of blue speckling deeper within glinted more visibly, something that distracted Sam momentarily.

"Sam? Did you hear anything I just said?" Dean asked, breaking Sam from his trance. "Or are you too busy staring at your sexy brother to notice?"

Sam's blush reached down to his neck and shoved Dean. "Shut up, you ass!"

Dean smirked. "Anyway, as I was saying. The math part of it is very easy; it's just the formula and the steps you have to remember. Do you what the quadratic formula is?"

"Uh…"

"I'll take that as a no. Here, let me see your pencil. Can I use a spare page in your notebook?"

"Sure," Sam said, handing Dean his pencil and flipping to a blank space in his math notebook. "Here,"

"Thanks. Okay, I know it look intimidating, but it's very easy. Here," Dean sketched out the formula as he explained. "X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4 AC over 2A. [-**Beefie: IT BUUUURNS! D:**] Now, you have to find A, B, and C from this equation here—6x2-2x-1=0—to plug it in and find it out. And A, B, and C are…?"

"Uh…A=6, B=-2, and C=-1?"

"Correct," Dean said with a soft smile, causing Sam to flush again. "Okay, now that we know what A, B, and C are, we can plug them in. You basically substitute the letters for the numbers. Do that,"

"Fuck you, can't you just do it?" Sam whined, pouting.

"Sam, you're not going to learn anything if I do all of it."

"Fuck," Sam complained, taking the pencil. "Uhm, fuck, okay… Uh…So, is it…B equals six—"

"Negative two, Sam," Dean said with a sigh. "B is negative two,"

"Oh! Fuck, right, right, I knew that," Sam stammered, erasing what he wrote before scowling, slamming the book closed and tossing it against a wall. "Fuck algebra!"

"Sam—"

"Dean, do you think buying cheese is so damn complicated that to figure it out you must use that fucking pointless ass shit? Exactly; it's _not_. When the fuck do you use that shit in real life? Never, that's when! I'm not Pluto, Dean!"

"Plato,"

"What?"

"It's Plato, Sam, not Pluto."

Dean was answered with a pillow in his face and the door banging closed forcefully. Gabriel giggled wildly from his place on the floor. "I think it's that time of the month again, Dean,"

"Shut up," Dean retorting, snapping the pillow into Gabriel's face with so much force that he fell over.

"I guess two ladies are on their periods then!"

"You're a sexist pig," Dean snarled before departing the room. "Sam!"

"Hey, I'm right beside you, you dick. No need to fucking yell," Sam hissed sharply, shoving Dean out of the way.

"And where the hell are you going?" Dean asked, scowling deeply.

"Out,"

"Sam—"

"No, fuck you! Algebra is fucking retarded! If you like it so much, then you do it!" Sam yelled snappishly, stomping off to the bathroom with a static anger.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked. "That room is faulty as fuck!"

"I know, but that's the toilet is. News flash, _Mr. Wizard_, Sams need to piss too!" Sam said, voice thick and seething with sarcasm. Dean closed his eyes, not wanting to think about the incident where he had the same exact thing with minor alterations to Sam.

Dean sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, his temper on a thin and combustible line. "Sam," Dean said with a sigh as his brother messed with the broken doorknob. "Sam, let me help you,"

"Fuck you!"

"Gladly," Dean said with a sigh, trying to push Sam away from the doorknob as gently as possible.

Sam stared at him in stunned silence before his irritation flared again and he attempted to push Dean out of the way. Dean, growing irked, growled. "Sam, you're not going to open it like that,"

"Shut up, I know what I'm doing."

"Sam—"

"Dean, what the fuck—" Before either of them could prevent it, the door cracked under the force of both males and swung inwardly open. Without the barrier of the door to hold them up, the duo tumbled in, Dean landing on top of Sam and accidentally kicking the door to the bathroom closed. Dean cussed vibrantly and rapidly rushed to the door, grabbing the doorknob and giving it a harsh twist. Nothing. They were locked in.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled, slapping the door angrily.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam groaned. "The AC in the bathroom doesn't work and it's at least eighty with 90 percent humidity! …Gabriel's watching _Legend of Korra_, isn't he?"

"Yep," Dean said with a long, exasperated sigh, leaning his head back against the door frame.

"And knowing him, he's blasting that shit to where you can hear it from the doorway even when his headphones are on?"

"Mhm,"

"And our phones are in the bedroom, aren't they?"

"Wee woo, wee woo, we have a fucking winner. In short, we're utterly fucked until his episode ends, which could be in two hours, knowing him and how he'd go to infinite scales to hack it and get more episodes." Dean muttered, sifting his fingers through his short brown hair. "His immaturity is going to be the death of us both,"

"Goddamn you, Gabriel!" Sam shouted, kicking the wall siphoning Sam from the idiot and prison for murdering him.

"He can't hear you, Sam,"

"You think I don't know that?" Sam yelled, folding his arms across his chest with a dramatic huff.

"God, what the fuck has gotten into you today?" Dean asked, giving Sam an odd stare.

"Nothing! Just leave me alone," Sam hissed, folding his arms and glaring daggers at the wall, not wanting to meet Dean's eyes.

"Ditch the teen angst, Sam, and tell your brother what's going on," Dean said, voice gentle despite the fierceness in his words.

"That's just it, Dean!"

"What are you—"

"Brothers. That's all I am to you; just a little brother and nothing more," Sam shouting, face red and eyes shining from threats of tears.

"Sam—" Dean whispered, shocked. He reached out a hand to touch his arm, but Sam merely recoiled as if burned.

"Don't," Sam murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

"Sam…"

"Just don't, Dean! I don't need your pity!" Sam snapped, curling more tightly within himself, tears now rolling down his cheeks. He wiped the tears away in exasperation, glaring at the wetness he found on his fingertips. "God, I'm such a wimp," Sam mumbled, burying his face in the crook of his arm.

To Dean, this was the worst sight to see. Gently, with so much ease, Dean lifted Sam's face and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said softly.

"Why? You don't feel the same," Sam mumbled weakly, lips trembling.

"And how do you know that?"

Sam's eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Dean's lips were crashing against his, stealing the breath from his lungs in one kiss. Teeth and lips fought relentlessly, tongue coming in now and again, though the passion was evident without it. The desire was equal and obvious on both sides, and no matter how long they could force themselves to ignore it, they knew they'd have to give into it eventually. They were trapped in a hot room together until Gabriel's show ended.

Dean's hand dragged along Sam's sides, causing the latter's breath to hitch and arch into Dean's skilled hands as he ripped off both of their shirts. Once the bulwark of clothing was stripped and Sam's beautiful olive skin was open to Dean's hungry fancy, skillful lips quickly began kissing and licking all over, searching every bit of skin to absorb any ounce of Sam's taste they could salvage. Sam moaned weakly under the onslaught, wanting nothing more to wither and burn under the desire that threatened to swallow him whole.

Once Sam's chest was mapped with nipples hard and perked—Dean liked to tease—Dean moved his journey downwards. Immediately Sam's jeans and boxers were gone, as they would only prove a hassle later on, and Dean's lips continued to travel south, his tongue working expertly over Sam's naval and down the curve of his hips. Sam's hips bucked unconsciously into Dean's mouth, an angry groan escaping his lips as Dean merely forced his hips back down. This became increasingly harder as Dean took all of Sam's length in his mouth and began to swirl his tongue around the tip, which nearly unhinged Sam completely. The latter cried out loudly, wrapping his nimble fingers about Dean's short hair and gave it a harsh yank, hips grinding best they could against Dean's mouth with hands pushing them down. Dean groaned quietly, his kink for having his hair pulled kicking in. The noise sent a shock through Sam's cock and up his spine, making him arch deeply with a loud cry of pleasure.

"Dean—" He gasped. "Dean, I'm close—"

As soon as the words left Sam's mouth, orgasm teetering on a knife's edge, Dean released Sam completely with a cocky smirk. The latter withered and glowered wantonly at Dean through a haze of pleasure, trying his best to be annoyed but failing. "Why'd you stop?" He whined.

Dean licked his lips and said nothing as to absorb the scene played out before him. He straddled Sam under him, his legs splayed out, cock hard, face flushed, lips wet and eyes lidded with pleasure. In all, it was a very erotic sight, and Dean had to force himself to take it slow; Sam was still very much a virgin. Dean didn't want to rush and accidentally hurt him.

"Dean," Sam moaned weakly, squirming impatiently. "Dean, please—"

"Calm down, beautiful, I've got you," Dean whispered in Sam's ear as he gently lifted him into his arms. He was much taller, yes, but Dean still managed to act knightly and carry Sam to the shower like a prince in shining armor carrying his princess.

"Where are we going?" Sam rasped, arms locked around Dean's neck.

"To shower; this room is far too hot, and with what we're about to do, you need to cool off a bit," Dean whispered sensually in Sam's ear and causing him to shudder.

"Dean?" Sam asked as Dean turned on the water to the shower.

"Hm?"

"Do you love me?"

Dean placed Sam in the shower and stripped before climbing in alongside him. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close as he pinned him against the wall, pressing a smile into his neck.

"How about I prove it to you?"

xXx

**A/N: Nopety nope! Like hell am I going too far into it when they haven't even gotten to the point of making out in the normal plot! Sorry, you pervs, but you're just going to have to wait on that one.**

**Reviews are love!**

**-Beefie**


	6. W2GD2WFAODS, Pt 2

**A/N: Woop woop, enjoy! This one is long, yay!**

**Inconsequential side note: hip-hop + ballet = a whole load of badassery.**

Warning: language, sexual themes and a batshit scary Dean, violence and heavier sexual incidences for later chapters.

Disclaimer: YES, I OWN SUPERNATURAL. THAT'S WHY WINCEST IS EVIDENT WITH BOTH DEAN AND SAM HAVING SEXY MANSEX _EVERY FUCKING EPISODE_. (Pfft, ignore me; just being a smartass.)

xXx

Ch. 5: W2GD2WFA/ODS, Pt. 2

(Sam)

Sam gnawed relentlessly at his lower lip, his hands tightening and loosening around his keys. He stood before his jointly-shared apartment complex with a nervous tension settling on his shoulders. To simply say, he was scared shitless…of Dean. He'd vanished from the Strip Rose Pandemonium without even notifying Dean with a girl he didn't even know to find a fugitive werewolf. And then after once he did happen to find the renegade—which Sam didn't have enough sense to inform Dean of—he proceeded to leave—oh yes, with the random girl alongside; what a wonderful plus!—with him to attack the fashion scene of Boston so they could remodel Sam to educe some sort of response in Dean's jeans. On the outside, Sam, disagreed with every aspect and consideration mantling this subject, but somewhere in his heart he was thankful for these two lunatics. Whenever confronted, however, he'd oppose it with the any bit of contradictory he could muster; it was simply too embarrassing to openly submit to their intentions.

Hesitantly, Sam unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, the warmth of the house rivaling with the cold night of outside. He'd been gone since he'd left with Atticus and Natalie around eight and had been with them to the present time of nine at night, thinking not once about calling Dean to inform him of his location or at least assure him that he was alright and hadn't been decapitated.

"Hello…?" Sam called into the black of the house, voice almost wavering from trepidation. Swallowing thickly, he flicked on a light only to yell in surprise when he found Dean sitting in John's taco chair (every Tuesday John ate Taco Bell and got very drunk, thus proceeding to act utterly infantile and _extremely_ bitchy) with an unreadable expression. Sam had rather him looking angry than not looking like anything at all; it made things all the more terrifying.

"Hey Dean," Sam ventured, clearing his throat nervously. "As you can see, I'm alive—"

"Where were you Samuel?" Dean asked, tilting his head to one side though his expressions didn't vacillate in any form of consideration.

Sam swallowed again; Dean hadn't called him Sammy, in fact, he'd called him by his full name. Sam was in much deeper shit than he could've ever imagined.

"J-just out with some friends, why?" Sam asked, inwardly curing his voice for breaking.

"Samuel, I don't believe you understand the situation," Dean said, shaking his head and leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and his hands dangled loosely between his legs. "For two hours I searched that club high and low for my darling little brother of whom I thought had been somehow kidnapped. Do you know how fucking _terrified_ I was that you might be dead?" For a slight moment Dean's cold demeanor broke and a spark of hurt flashed across his face before being devoured by empty emotion. Regaining his leverage, he continued, "Anyway, it was unacceptable."

"Well I'm okay now," Sam said weakly, cringing away from Dean's voice. "So…no need to worry," his heart thudded in his chest and his hands were covered in a cold sweat; never before had he seen Dean like this. No. This was not Dean—Dean was never this…inhuman. Vision swimming like the coward he was, Sam looked up fearfully at Dean. "What's wrong with you, Dean?"

Dean flinched, his original, demonic self cracking under the realization that he was scaring the shit out of Sam. "Sam," he stood and tightened his jaw as Sam took a step back away from him. Saying nothing, he grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him into a fierce, protective hug. "Sorry," he murmured gruffly into Sam's ear. "I was just…That scared the living fuck out of me, kid; you suddenly vanishing, I mean. God, I thought you'd been kidnapped. I thought I lost you, Sam," Dean's grip on the taller but much younger male tautened but was at the same time gentle and even a bit desperate. Sam relaxed; there was the Dean he knew.

"It's okay, Dean. Just…Don't freak out that badly; give it a day or two to see if I'm actually dead." Sam laughed nervously, squirming a bit. "However, I really should've called you, so…sorry about that one,"

Dean took Sam's fidgeting the wrong way and let him go, though still holding him an arm length away from him. Sam wanted Dean to hold him like that again, but despite his disappointment he said nothing concerning it. "Agreed. Where were you, really, anyway?"

"Uhm…Just…hanging out with some friends," Sam said, shrugging. Telling Dean that he was hanging out with Atticus Boon (and some random girl) probably wasn't the best of ideas considering Dean's former reaction.

"Oh," Dean said, shrugging and letting Sam go. "Uh, I made dinner,"

A wide smile spread across Sam's lips at Dean's generosity. "Seriously? That's great!"

"Ooh, don't get too excited," Dean muttered, leading them both to the kitchen.

"Why—" Sam was immediately cut short when he registered the current nature of their kitchen, or what used to be the kitchen. Flour and other food items coated the walls while the counter tops were painted with long strips of burnt matter, and Sam couldn't fathom the present state of the stove and the floor—Sam didn't _dare_ look at it. Sam closed his eyes with a sigh, not even having to say anything as Dean answered for him, "Pancakes. I, uh…I, uhm, wanted to make breakfast for dinner. You know, 'cause you…like that…kind of…thing?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to never—_ever_—in the whole realm of time thus forth—let you cook. No, never even allow you to ever step foot in the kitchen again. You—words can't even describe your methods of cooking, Dean,"

"Take out?"

"I thought you'd never ask,"

ooOoo

Atticus threw his head back and cackled wildly, Natalie clapping her hands in appreciation while rendered silent from her laughing. Sam gave them both a moment to regain themselves after having told them the wonderful tale of how Dean was forever banned from even stepping foot into the kitchen since the incident the night previous.

"Oh—oh my god," Atticus gasped, leaning against a wall with a hand over his heart with a sigh. "Whew! Damn, I haven't laughed that hard in years. Ha, that was golden,"

"I hear ya!" Natalie cried, holding her hand up. "My god, that was beautiful. Never would one think that the infamous Dean would be that bad of a cook,"

"Or a shitty cook in general,"

"Oh yes, that is very true,"

"Why do you guys keep on going on about how infamous my brother is? How do you even know him?" Sam demanded, scowling.

Atticus raised a brow and shot Natalie a look, who replied to it with an analogous motion and a shrug. This merely infuriated Sam. "What the fuck is so serious that you can't tell me?"

"We're going to leave that between you two," Natalie finally replied before jumping off of the top of a trashcan. Atticus nodded as well and followed after from his position on a parallel trash bin. "Now, we have a Dean to make horny. Make over!"

Sam cringed; the hour of his demise had tolled its hideous bell. He'd be lucky just to come out alive, which made the ominous experience drifting inches within reach all the more horrifying.

"Do we really have to do this?" Sam pleaded.

"Yup," Natalie answered, yanking down Sam's arm to hook her own around his shoulders. "It won't be too bad. We made sure to have Gabe distract Dean so we could wipe out and refill your closet and also have time to make you irresistible."

"Dear god, this is going to be a disaster," Sam whined, pushing the hair out of his face with distressed fluctuation. "Wait, how do you know Gabriel?" Sam asked, shooting a look to Natalie.

"I don't," Natalie replied unhelpfully.

"It doesn't matter; this id going to be bloody amazing," Atticus deviated, resting an elbow on Sam's shoulder opposite of Natalie. At first, Sam thought Atticus' accent was sexy as hell, but as he realized what an evil bastard he was, the thought lost its luster. (He still thought Scottish accents were still hot though.) "Equally as it will be a nightmare to your pride,"

"Atty! For shame! We won't be _that_ bad," Natalie countered, putting unnecessary stress on the word. As both evil doers spoke, they directed Sam out of Atticus' foul smelling hide out—both Natalie and Sam were very quick to adjust to the stench if they wanted to meet anywhere with Atticus—while still keeping a loose grip on Sam, chattering away on their plan. Sam blocked them out completely, not wanting to hear them speaking of his death. God, this was going to be horrible.

ooOoo

"No. No, _fuck_ to the motherfuck no! There is no way in motherfucking _hell_ that I am going to wear that!" Sam yelled, jabbing a finger accusingly at the pair of extremely short shorts and tank top Atticus and Natalie had prepared for Sam.

"Aye, aye, aye, we got it! Calm down, lad," Atticus said, throwing his palms up in defense.

"Shh, Sam, it's okay. We've got other things for you to wear." Natalie said, stroking Sam's arm soothingly.

"That does not reassure me at all," Sam groaned, sitting down on his bed. "Let's just get this over with already,"

xXx

(Dean)

Dean sighed and leaned back into the seat of Gabriel's car, trying his best not to reach over and slit the dipshit's throat. Since late the night before, shortly after Sam went to sleep, Gabriel appeared and dragged Dean off to some bar so that Dean could get drunk. (John was busy with the case, and had promised them so from time being that their schedule was likely to get very messy and very bloody very soon.) This lasted for a good few hours until Dean sobered up, which once done Gabriel then forced him in accompaniment to some random ass girl's eighteenth birthday party and having to make pointless conversation with some girl while Gabriel and the birthday girl did whatever upstairs (i.e. had sex). The girl was nice enough, though Dean had much rather been talking and flirting with Sam than her. Dean scowled at this thought; talking, yes, though flirting?

Dean sighed again at his stupidity; he had unknowingly fallen in love with Sam. How could he be so fucking _stupid_? For one thing, he was a vampire and Sam was a hunter. He'd live forever while Sam couldn't, or have his life being shortened by possibly Sam or even John if it came to it. Not only that, Sam thought Dean was his older brother, and therefore would be impossible for him to be comfortable with Dean's feelings. In the long run, Dean was going to end up heartbroken no matter what he did. Fucking great; there was a reason Dean had built a wall around himself. Emotions only brought him down, made him hurt. And this—god, now that he thought about it, he was head over heels in love with Sam, and no matter what he did, Sam was very unlikely to ever love him back as much as Dean did him. Stupid Dean; there was a reason he was never supposed to feel.

"You okay man?" Gabriel asked, grinning widely at Dean. The idiot's giddiness only made Dean more irked.

"Other than trying to suppress the urge to make your car into a homicidal scene with you as the victim? Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." Dean growled sarcastically.

"Oh cheer up, bro," Gabriel said, pushing Dean's shoulder before digging into the glove compartment for a lollipop. Finding one, he uncovered it and popped it into his mouth. "You'll thank me later,"

Dean raised a brow at this but said nothing. Gabriel was absolutely capricious, such so to where he was even humming quietly to himself. Finally unable to take it, Dean confronted him. "Why the fuck are you so happy?"

"Ooh, you'll find out," Gabriel replied mirthfully.

"You know that only makes me more nervous?" Dean asked, sighing once more. "Damn, I hope you're not pranking me." Dean muttered. He had a feeling this was the case, but normally when Gabriel pranked him, he was a bit more obscure.

Finally Gabriel pulled into the driveway of Dean's apartment, grinning from ear to ear. "This will be great," he murmured to himself, causing Dean to become even more apprehensive.

"Dear god, this must be a pretty good prank if you're coming at the seams," Dean muttered, kicking the sticky door—Gabriel refused to get a new car until his reached to the point of no return—to Gabriel's car open.

"That's what she said," Gabriel cackled and Dean couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"I'm scared," Dean said as he unlocked the apartment. "What the fuck are you planning behind this door, Gabriel?"

Gabriel coughed radically in an attempt to poorly hide a "that's what she said." Clearing his throat and patting his chest, Gabriel smiled sweetly at Dean. "Sorry, I have a bit of a—ahem—cough."

"Oh shut the fuck up," Dean yelled, pushing Gabriel's shoulder as he opened the door. "Sam?" He called. "I'm home. FYI, Gabriel's with me,"

"I'm in the kitchen trying to clean up the hurricane that wrought havoc on it last night, you dick!" Sam replied from the kitchen.

"Don't," Dean said, shooting a look at Gabriel.

"Whatever do you mean?" Gabriel asked innocently. "That's simply what he said,"

"You clever asshole!" Dean shouted, kicking his friend softly in the shin. Gabriel merely laughed at this and followed Dean to the kitchen to find Sam in a pair of skin tight jeans and tank top leaning over and trying to clean the floor. His back was turned to Dean, giving him a perfect view of his ass. Dean stopped dead in his tracks, immediately becoming hard at the sight of it, provocative images flooding his mind mercilessly.

Sam threw his hair back and out of his face as he straightened, raising a brow at the both of them. "What?"

Dean cleared his throat and scratched his jaw, shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing. Ahem, uhm…So, how's the cleaning going?" Fuck, everything Sam was doing—and what he was wearing didn't help at all—was making him want to murder whoever the hell made pants. It took everything in Dean not to walk over to Sam, drape him over his shoulder, and lock them both in a room so he could get rid of his hard on. Now he knew why Gabriel was in such a high mood—he must've known that Sam had changed up his wardrobe and waited to find him cleaning so that Dean would walk in and not be able to do anything. The fucker was dickwhipping him.

"Fine. Don't come in; you're banned, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Dean said, clearing his throat again. "Ahem, sorry, my throat's a little dry,"

Sam quirked a brow but said nothing to this. "Uh, we'll be watching TV. Call us when you're done so we can go get Mickey D's or something. John promised hell tomorrow, so I thought you might need some junk food to settle you beforehand," Dean said, pushing Gabriel into the living room before he could make any snarky comments. Once safely there, Dean dragged his friend to the floor and began playfully punching his arms and chest.

"You conniving ass!" He hissed, punching Gabriel's shoulder. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

Gabriel simply laughed and tossed Dean off of him. "I don't know, did I?" He grabbed Dean's shoulder and flipped him over his back.

From the floor, Dean grabbed Gabriel's ankle and hauled him down alongside him before snapping to his feet and sitting on his chest. "What the fuck ever, bitch. I will get you back so fucking hard,"

"Ha! I'd looove to see you try! King of pranksters, 'member? Now get off; unless…Hey, I'm hungry for a lollipop Dean; do you have one for me?" Gabriel smacked his lips and bucked his hips up teasingly against Dean.

"Gah, fuck no!" Dean retorted, hopping off of Gabriel as if he were some disease. "You have Castiel for that!"

"Bluh, he won't if I begged," Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes.

"You've asked him?" Dean said, smirking.

"Shut up, dick wagon!"

"Nah," Dean said, grinning. "I like terrorizing you; it's fun,"

"Fuckface,"

"Bitch,"

"Leech,"

"Daddy's boy,"

"Fuck you! Damn, I guess you win this one, De," Gabriel said with a sigh, folding his arms behind his head like a pillow.

"'De?' Since when were you two all buddy-buddy?" Sam asked, standing at the entrance of the living room, frowning deeply. "I thought you hated him?" Sam turned his confused look to Dean. Dean melted under the look; Sam was practically pouting, and like fuck did that work well with his restraint.

Gabriel gaped, hurt, at Dean. "De! You hate me?" Gabriel flipped over onto his stomach and fake-wept. "I thought we had something special, man!"

"Shut up, you whiny bitch," Dean growled, giving Gabriel a kick, which only made the imbecile wail louder. "Yeah, I was forced into a couple of cases with him. He's more…unproblematic now that I've gotten used to his bitchiness."

"No! Just leave me alone, Dean! …Wait. Hey, I am not a bitch!"

"Tell that to yourself, _bitch_fuck," Dean snapped, kicking Gabriel again.

"Sammy, Dean's being mean! Mean Dean, mean Dean!" Gabriel howled.

"Dean, leave him alone," Sam said with a sigh.

"Yay! See, Dean? _Sam_ loves me!" Gabriel cried, spinning over and rapidly kneeing Dean in the nuts. Dean yelled in pain and fell over, gripping his crotch while Sam and Gabriel laughed at him. This was answered with a little bird flying high in the air to the both of them, which quieted them a bit.

"Uhm, you want to go to McDonalds with us, Gabriel?" Sam asked. "You know, 'cause apparently things are going to get hectic tomorrow?"

"Why yes, yes I do!" Gabriel said happily, bouncing onto his feet.

"I hate you," Dean mouthed to Gabriel as he turned and kneeled down beside him, grinning.

"I love me too," Gabriel whispered, patting Dean's cheek.

"Come on you guys," Sam yelled. "Stop instigating each other,"

"Yes Dean, come on!" Gabriel giggled then said in a lower voice that only Dean could hear. "I want you to watch me stuff my face while you can't eat any of it," He grinned; Dean's diet was primarily blood based, though it didn't exclude the fact that before he'd met Sam, he'd tried it and liked it, and as far as Sam knew, he was an extreme health nut. If he suddenly started eating Mickey D's, questions would arise, and to save confusion, Dean kept Sam in the low.

"Hey Gabe," Dean rasped, motioning for him to move closer. "Come here, I have something to tell you,"

"Promise you won't smack me?"

Dean nodded and continued to motion for him until finally settling Gabriel enough to lean in so Dean could press his lips to his ear, cockish smile fucking with his lips.

"_That's what she said,_"

xXx

**A/N: Oh shit son! This story is so much fun to write, you have no idea. Till next time! HAHA! I GAVE YOU PEOPLE THREE CHAPTERS ALL AT ONCE! AREN'T I A NICE AUTHOR? (Plus something else, which you might love me for. Not telling you what is though!)**

**Oh yes, important! I need some help on thinking of some ways to torture Dean and maybe Sam too if you want that. Comment your ideas and who you want to come up with it: Atticus, Natalie, or Gabriel! (Or a combination; fluck, I don't know! Just as long as it coagulates well with the plot…which….you don't know about; I don't know, you'll see if or when approved!)**

**Ah yes, reviews are love! (My 'v' key is starting to stick, glob darn… Wait, why the 'v' key? It's a damn 'v' key, glob dammit! I am justifiably confused.) Anywho.**

**Later 'nanner alligators! Review, please? I'll give you more chapters at once?**

**-Beefie**


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